homecoming

And as he ran to me, he took me into his arms, held my head to his chest, kissed me and cried ‘My son, my son, how I’ve waited for this day’. Turning to all the villagers who by now had followed him to the spot where he met me, he called out as if everyone had momentarily gone deaf  ’My son was dead but he’s now alive’. He held me so close to him I could hardly say a word, but as his strong arms relaxed their grip, I was able to look into his gentle eyes once again… and I confessed ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son …’ but he interrupted me before I could finish those few words I had rehearsed a thousand times on my way here. ‘My son, I freely choose to forgive you because my love for you has not changed. You were, are and will always be my son. Do you accept this?’ I could hardly believe my ears. Not only because of his unfathomable compassion and mercy but because I realised at that moment he was still giving me a choice and not forcing his love upon me. I could still choose to be a paid servant in his house who just obeyed orders and got a pay, or accept the responsibility of living as his son where the only obligation is that of love - an obligation which knew no limits but overflowed with blessings.

Even then, I am ashamed to say, conflicting thoughts entered my mind: am I ready to give up the freedom to do what I want for the freedom to do what is right? Am I willing to serve in heaven rather than reign in hell? Am I happy to live my freedom in the truth rather than freedom from the truth? I knew that my decision was not just based on the emotion of the moment. I knew that coming back home meant living a new life which would be happier, freer and fuller but would require that I forfeit my ’decapolis ways’ interiorly not only exteriorly. Deep down I already knew the answer. I had tasted the pleasures of sin which had left me empty, miserable and half dead. I knew what I wanted and with not much more hesitation I quietly but resolutely whispered ‘I accept Dad’.

My restless heart was back home…and it now was at peace and at rest once again - and then I looked up to heaven and prayed. My thoughts were jostled when I heard my father say to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet’. I who had lost all my rights was being given back a dignity I never even knew I had - the robe, the ring and the sandals all signified that my father gave me back the honoured status of sonship.

As we walked back into the house everything seemed to have changed although all was still the same. And then it dawned on me - it was I who had changed, and having been given this second chance, I now finally realised that I had really come back home!